


Would That I Had Remembered You Sooner, My Love

by Daliaria



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Melancholy, Memories, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Vaginal Sex, mention of cunnilingus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29603469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daliaria/pseuds/Daliaria
Summary: You couldn't do this. You couldn't hate this man, you couldn't kill him for what he wanted, what he missed, longed for. You don't think you would have done anything differently, had you been in his place.And so you did not reconvene with the Scions.
Relationships: Azem/Emet-Selch (Final Fantasy XIV), Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Would That I Had Remembered You Sooner, My Love

**Author's Note:**

> Just me trying to get over my feelings that Shadowbringers and all successive playthroughs of it brought about ;_;

Was there ever a choice?

You'd spent hours trawling through the streets of Amaurot, talking to the shades and feeling your heart sink... and sink... and sink. 

You couldn't do this. You couldn't hate this man, you couldn't kill him for what he wanted, what he missed, longed for. You don't think you would have done anything differently, had you been in his place. 

And so you did not reconvene with the Scions. You went to the Bureau of the Secretariat on your own, got your approved visitor's permit, and you took the other entry to the capitol. You held out the piece of paper to the Amaurotine who stood at its entrance, and then you waited. You sat down on the marble floor, and you waited. 

For him.

When he finally appeared you bolted to your feet before he could speak. 

"I'm sorry."

He merely stared, an expression of surprise forming on that face. That perfect face that you'd struggled to fight against, that just now seemed so _right._ It felt like _home_ and you couldn't explain it.

You could not justify the sacrifice that they'd bring about after the rejoining. But you also could not bring yourself to stop him.

"Who was I... to you?" You took a few steps towards him, then stopped. "Why does Hythlodeus know who I am?"

His gaze turned downwards, and silence passed between the pair of you. Several moments of silence, until he bee lined towards you, grabbing your forearm and placing it against his chest. 

"Remember," he murmured, and before you could react his lips were on yours, his hand sliding to the small of your back, and all you can think of is how _right_ this feels. Why does it feel so _right_?

His lips press perfectly against yours, as does his body, too. He smells sweet, fruity and floral, and his taste matches it too, intoxicating.

_Why does it feel so right?_

Something bubbles up within you, a long forgotten place, a memory. This whole city, you knew it once. It was your home once.

His lips move away from yours.

And you...

"H-Hades..."

You remember.

You remember walking down those streets hand in hand. You remember evenings spent wrapped up in each other. You remember casting aside your intimacy for office, both of you. You...

"Hades."

You look at him, and you think back to all the shades you'd spoken to. The people he'd lost, the life he'd lost. The hopes, the dreams that they'd had to save the world, and bring back those that had been sacrificed...

And you start crying. 

You remember. You hadn't approved of that sacrifice. More and more, to bring back those who had been lost. Hadn't there been enough death already? You'd defected.

Yet you could see how much it hurt him. And it hurt you.

You wanted him back.

You move into his hold, letting your hand settle on his back, pressing your face against his jacket, into the crook of his neck.

"Hades," you murmur again. "I'm sorry..."

His hands wrap around you too, gently, softly, pulling you into his embrace.

It feels like home.

It breaks you.

You sob.

"I'm sorry."

He settles his head against your shoulder. You can feel his warm breath against your neck.

You'd let him, you realize. You'd let him rejoin the world if it meant you could relive the happiness that you felt at his side, in his arms.

You'd let the sacrifice happen.

And it breaks you, all over again. 

You sob into his shoulder, your knees threatening to give in. The whole time he holds you upright, his arms around your back, holding you firm to him. Until finally he lets you come back down.

"I want you," you mewl, and he knows. Of course he knows. He's known you for longer than you've known yourself.

He brings you down to the floor, kneeling before you, taking your face in his hands, cupping your cheeks. His lips press against yours again, and then press against the salty trails along your cheeks. His hands slip to the collar of your shirt, working to start undoing it slowly, and the whole time you let him, clinging to him like a lost animal.

Even as you weep he undresses you, kissing you tenderly, lovingly, pressing those lips against every bit of you and exploring you with his tongue. It's all so familiar, this lovers dance, and you don't ever move to stop him. 

His lips sink between your legs and you gasp, your back arching and your hips raising to meet his tongue. He makes you moan, he makes you sing, that tongue rolling over you and through you and his fingers diving into your depths. And only once you've sung for him thrice does he even slip out of his own clothes, sinking between your legs to slide his length into you until it _aches_.

Your arms reach for him greedily, wrapping over his bared shoulders and stroking along his chest, his spine, his arms. You have to feel every part of him, nothing less will do, and so your hands trail over _everything_ , and he lets you. You are his lover, after all, he wants to see you completed once more. He would tear the world apart but regardless he would do everything he could to shield you from hurt.

He sinks into you over and over and over, and it _hurts_. But the hurt is familiar, and _good_.

You start to beg him for more even as you weep, and his thumb brushes over your clit as his mouth descends upon you once more. 

You know you're his, you've only ever been his, since the beginning of time itself.

You hand yourself over to him, and he brings you undone over and over and over, until finally he seeks his own release and empties within you. It feels warm. You feel complete. 

And you surrender your cause to him then and there.

If it means you can be with him, with this man you've loved for centuries, for millennia, without even knowing, you would sacrifice it all.

And oh the relief on his face makes your heart swell when you tell him. How could you have ever denied this man, this man who loves you so dearly and who, it seems, _you_ loved so dearly too.

He whisks you away to a bedroom, a bedroom so familiar it leaves you quivering, and sets you on the bed. He calls you Persephone, he calls you Azem, and both of the names cause you to tremble in their familiarity.

You let him take you, place his mask over your eyes and fuck you. Place the crystal in your hands and fuck you until you came undone and all of it flooded back into you and you remembered. You remembered the entirety of Amaurot, you remembered Hythlodaeus, you remembered Hades, the time you spent together, and then he brought them back.

He bid you slumber and you slept, and when you awoke the world was as it was. You mourned for days, for weeks, for those you lost, for those that were sacrificed.

But you understood.

And you were with him. And finally... finally... he looked happy. He looked at peace. By his side you felt full, whole, complete. And he felt the same.


End file.
